


The Little Duckling

by ALWrite



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dad Javert, Gen, Madeleine Era, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-07-20 14:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALWrite/pseuds/ALWrite
Summary: Ever since the stern police inspector came to save her from the Thénardiers, Cosette has been trying her utmost to please him. But he still wants to get rid of her. What is she to do to make him want to keep her?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original Kink Meme read: Little Cosette adores Javert so much that she follows him everywhere like a duckling even when he's out patrolling. She also tries to mimic his stern attitude/habits. (She ends up making serious encounters... less than serious.) Needless to say: Valjean and the entire village can't keep straight faces when they see them together. Just fluff/good humour here. (Some lighthearted Valjean/Javert on the side would be lovely, too.)  
> .  
> While the following story was inspired by the above prompt, I also had my own agenda with these two characters. Therefore, not everything in the prompt is covered.

 

 

_Prologue_

 

_How the stern Inspector had fallen into this trap he had no idea. At times, he believed that God was punishing him. At other times, he was convinced that it had something to do with the Mayor tricking him into all this with his charming and cajoling ways. But mostly, he had to admit, the situation he found himself in stemmed from the fact that he had not been firm enough to refuse obedience to said Mayor - something he knew he should have done!_

 

~~~

 

"Look at that, Monsieur le Maire."

"What?" Jean Valjean, a.k.a. Monsieur Madeleine, factory owner and mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer, turned to the baker who had stopped the mayor's pensive stride towards his office.

The baker's grin widened as he pointed over the mayor's shoulder and towards the end of the street.

Madeleine turned... and laughed.

Far off Inspector Javert strode purposefully towards the docks as was his habit when on patrol. A few paces behind someone was following him; a girl, perhaps seven years of age, mimicked the Inspector's gait while at the same time taking care not to be spotted by him.

Valjean watched as Javert stopped and answered the greeting of the farrier. Immediately, the girl froze... and hid behind a lamp post.

Both the baker and the Mayor laughed at that.

Fortunately for the little girl, they were both too far off to be noticed by the inspector. As soon as he took up his stride again, the girl emerged from behind the lamp post and strode on just like Javert himself: with a ramrod straight back, her arms held behind her back, and - albeit invisible to the onlookers behind her - a serious look and a slight growl on her childish face.

"She's just like a little duckling following her mother duck around, don't you think, Monsieur le Maire?"

Valjean laughed even harder at the baker's words. To be sure, the description of 'duckling' fit the girl to perfection; but to imagine Javert as a, well, as a drake or even a gander... that was just... it was... _it was kind of fitting, actually._

 

_A scene from his own childhood rose in Valjean's mind, a scene he had almost forgotten. As a boy he had once helped a neighbour drive a flock of geese to market for a few centimes. One of the ganders had been so aggressive, he had not let anyone come close. Twice the owner had to help the boy Jean to evade the gander's sharp beak. It had been a valuable lesson; to learn that animals even smaller than a boy could defend themselves quite capably._

 

Valjean saw  Javert round the corner.  _Yes, gander fit the Inspector quite well. He, too, could be dangerous!_

 

~~~

 

Half an hour later Javert had entered the area of the docks - a place where crime and prostitution abounded. The pickpockets and ladies of the night residing there all knew Javert and usually kept clear of him. But they, too, had spotted his little shadow, and it was just too much for them to resist.

"Hello, there," one of the ladies addressed Cosette as she walked by... _strode by_ imitating the town's Police Inspector. Just like Javert might have done, Cosette ignored the woman completely.

"Hey... so small and already so cocky! What do you want here, you featherless little chick? Looking for work?" another one called over.

That made everybody within earshot laugh. Unfortunately, though, the Inspector had very good ears. He turned... and paled.

Cosette saw his forehead crease and his eyes turn hard.  _He had seen her! There was no way to hide._   All of a sudden she was quivering with fear. Her beloved idol strode towards her... with a scowl on his face!

"Cosette, what are you doing here?"

Her eyes became big saucers. She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't utter a single word. The look in his eyes took away all her courage.

"I have repeatedly told you not to follow me!"

_It was true. This wasn't the first time she had run away to follow him._

She swallowed.

"Well...?"

"Ah... don't be hard on her, Inspector," one of the prostitutes came to her defence. "The little mite probably wants to know what you are doing."

"Aye," another mocked. "Maybe she is curious why you come visit us all the time." The rancous laughter that followed this remark made Javert swivel round to face the speaker. As she looked into his eyes, the woman shrank back in fear. Slowly, he turned round to face Cosette again.

"Home," was all he said and strode ahead.

There was no chance for Cosette to mimic his gait again. He was walking so fast, she had to run to keep up.

 

 

 

 

  


	2. Chapter 2

When they reached the marketplace, Javert stopped. Cosette didn't dare face him just yet, and so she hid behind his back. He turned, but she moved swiftly in an attempt to stay behind him and to evade his wrath. A frustrated growl was the answer.

"Cosette, come here now!"

Her shoulders slumped, and she slunk in front of him.

"Look at me."

She did. Her eyes were huge and there was fear in them. All of a sudden Javert was reminded of their first encounter.

 

~~~

 

_**The office of Mayor Madeleine, four weeks earlier** _

"Please, Javert. It won't take longer than two or, at the most, three days."

"But Monsieur le Maire..."

"Look, Javert, I am asking you."

"But I have no jurisdiction in Montfermeil."

"I will give you an official note with my seal on it stating that you are to escort the girl to Montreuil-sur-Mer. Everything will be in perfect order should the need arise to convince authorities of your mission, I assure you."

"That is not what I am worried about." Slowly, Javert was turning desperate.

"But what, then?"

"I cannot just leave my post for three days, Monsieur le Maire. There are patrols to be made, reports to be written, and subordinates to be overseen."

"Come now, Javert. Sergeant Colbert is a very dedicated second-in-command, as you yourself keep telling me. And you can send me your reports a week later."

"Can you not send your assistant, Monsieur le Maire? On second thought, perhaps you should send your housekeeper. After all, we are talking about a little girl. In such a situation, a woman might be much better suited than a police inspector. - How old is this girl supposed to be, anyway?"

Javert did not miss the small smile that suddenly appeared.

"I have NOT agreed to fetch her!" he cried out in panic.

The twitching of muscles was now replaced by a full-on beaming smile that illuminated the mayor's face like the sun illuminated a bright day.

He stood then, face serious, head high, his spine never having been straighter, determined to take a stand. But the mayor had simply waited him out.

 

 

"Javert," Madeleine said confidentially after Javert's stance had grown less tense and the Inspector had finally been willing to listen to his reasons, "I am really adamant that it is you who makes this trip."

"How so, monsieur?"

"Fantine has told me a few things while she was in hospital, the poor soul."

Madeleine ignored Javert's eye-rolling.  _No, a man like Javert would never find it in himself to pity those whose nature was weaker than the stern inspector's._

"She was in pain and delirious during her last moments, but when I put everything she told me prior to that together, I believe that the innkeepers are not taking proper care of the little girl."

"Oh?"

If Javert's voice sounded suspicious, it was because he knew that the mayor would employ any trick available in his book to make him do what he would call 'the right thing' - in this case go to fetch the girl from the inn at Montfermeil, - and which was, to be painfully honest, a blatant misuse of taxpayers' money. A mayor, of all people, should be aware of the waste of sending a high-ranking police officer on a quest that could, in Javert's opinion, have been done by a mere maid.       

Madeleine cleared his throat and rose from his chair.

"Fantine handed me some letters that requested she send more money to the innkeepers. The reason they gave was that her child was ill and needed the doctor. - The next letter asked for more money explaining that expensive medicines needed to be bought. - And the next letter asked that she send more money yet, so they could purchase an extra blanket for the girl."

"They needed to buy a spare blanket? As innkeepers?"

The mayor nodded. "Yes, my thoughts exactly, Javert. When I talked to Fantine some more, she told me that the girl had a history of falling ill. Obviously, the innkeepers knew which drum to beat in order to get money out of the poor mother."

"And she never bothered to go there herself and check up on the situation of the girl?" Javert asked, disdain now plain in his voice.

Madeleine gave a sad smile. "Yes, you may well ask this. Had the little girl been mine, I would have gone through Hell to see her. But we are talking about a woman who walked the streets. I imagine that she wanted it hidden from the innkeepers - and perhaps even more so from her daughter - how low she had fallen."

He sighed, and Javert remembered that before her falling ill the whore had accused the mayor of being the reason for her downfall. And the mayor, being the fool that he was, had taken her angry and out-of-place accusations to heart and now blamed himself.

"You cannot help them all, Monsieur le Maire."

Madeleine shook his head. "No, I cannot. And yet, I wish I could."

His eyes were liquid. Javert almost rolled his eyes again at the sight.  _The fool! Every man or woman was responsible for their own fate. What was the point of someone trying to take on somebody else's problems on his own two should..._

In his thoughts, church bells began to ring in his ears, and said ears took on a shade of pink.

And the mayor, God blast him to Hell, had noticed it and pressed, no _shoved_ his advantage mercilessly...

And so, the next morning Inspector Javert had found himself on his horse, riding out of Montreuil-sur-Mer into the direction of Montfermeil.

 

~~~

 

He meant to be back as soon as possible. But even though he urged his mount on, it took him a day and a half to reach the village of Montfermeil. As soon as he arrived, he rode straight to the police station.

After he had received the information that the inn was outside the village - _"if you ride through the woods there, Monsieur l'Inspecteur, you will save time"_ \- he turned his horse and vanished in the woods.

The path was narrow and he wouldn't have wanted to navigate it in the dark. Thankfully, it was just past noon and he would have a few hours of daylight left when - suddenly - a shadow crossed his path and vanished.

The horse had remained calm, so at first, Javert believed it to be a doe or a young stag. He hoped it wasn't a boar or, worse, a wild sow with young ones she felt she needed to protect. He wasn't prepared for such a confrontation.

But then he spotted a tin bucket a few paces ahead, and he realized that it was a child that tried to hide from him behind a tree trunk.

"Come out!" he demanded. The child, a little girl of perhaps six or seven years of age, was frightened. But she obeyed his command. Slowly she approached.

"Who are you, child?" he demanded to know, his eyes taking in her rags, the wild and dirty hair, and her bare feet.

"I'm called Cosette," the girl answered so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

_Cosette!_

_This was the girl he was supposed to fetch and bring to Montreuil-sur-Mer._

Again, he took in her shy stance, the way her hands clutched her own raggedy skirt in fear, and the unconscious permanent shifting of her little feet to evade the cold ground.

He took a deep breath. _The mayor had been right. It was apparent that the girl was mistreated. Never mind the bruises on her arms; her thin frame and the neglected state of her hair and dress were obvious enough. Ill quite often... sickly child...my ass! If she were as sickly as the innkeepers had made it sound in their letters, she would have long succumbed to death being clad the way she was!_

 "There is an inn nearby," he said, "can you show me where it is?"

She nodded. "But I have to fetch water from the well first."

"What well?"

"It's down there." She pointed into the woods. Again, his eyes fell on her bare feet. He nodded.

"All right. Let's do this together. And then you can show me the way. D'accord, mademoiselle?"

She raised her hands to her mouth and giggled at the term. Enthusiastically, she nodded at him and ran to fetch the bucket.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French words and expressions:  
> D'accord, mademoiselle?............Agreed, little lady?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: dead baby animal;  
> If you want to avoid reading about it, start reading with the dialogue line "Is that you, Cosette?"

"There now... that's better."

Javert, feeling sick at the sight of the girl's red-raw feet, seated Cosette in the saddle. He led the horse along the narrow path through the woods, carrying the bucket full of water. It didn't take long to leave the woods behind. The girl pointed to a path, and after another few minutes they arrived at the inn.

For a moment Javert was taken aback. He had seen many such establishments during his career as a policeman, and this was one of the worst- and they weren't even inside yet!

Beside the door rubbish and debris was piled up. While that in itself was not unusual - many houses deposited their thrash outside the door - the stench that emanated from the pile assaulted Javert's nose. In spite of the freezing temperature, there was a strong smell, a smell Javert had come across too often in his line of work to be mistaken; it was the stench of death. Amidst broken chairs, dirty rags, defective tools and rotten food there lay a furry corpse. At first, Javert thought it to be a dead fox - so close to the woods it was more than likely that a fox might sort through the rubbish and would get clubbed - but then he realized it was a puppy dog.

Javert had never owned a dog himself; but he had come across them in his work, and he admired their loyalty and their obedience. Disgusted, he sat down the bucket.

"Is that you, Cosette?" a female voice suddenly screeched, and the girl on the saddle gave a jolt. During the ride her little hands had sought purchase on the saddle's pommel, and while they had been walking along, Javert had even spotted a small smile on her pale face. But in reaction to the voice he saw her little fingers clutch the pommel forcefully. It was almost as if she were holding on for dear life. Her eyes became big, round saucers and filled with fear.

A large woman burst out of the house. Compared to Javert's height she was tiny, but her corpulence lent her force, and the way she moved reminded him of a bowling ball thrown forcefully and rolling undeterredly no matter what.

"What took you so long, you lazy brat?" the woman screeched.

As soon as Javert stepped into the woman's view, her eyes widened in surprise - and she attacked Cosette with renewed vigour.

"What have you done now, insolent girl?" she spat. "Believe me, monsieur," she then turned to Javert, "she is not ours. We are simply taking care of her for her mother who bore her out of wedlock. If this naughty girl has done something unlawful, rest assured I will make her pay for it..."

"Enough!" Javert bellowed.

The woman fell silent.

Cosette was trembling now - whether from the cold or from fear wasn't certain, although Javert very much suspected it was from the latter.

To calm her down, he placed his hand on Cosette's thigh softly. The woman's eyes narrowed in response.

Cosette looked at him; there were tears in her eyes, but she didn't speak.

A tall, lanky man arrived in the doorway. "What is it?" he asked. As soon as he perceived Javert, his demeanour changed to one of fake politeness.

"Why, Monsieur l'Inspecteur," he purred, "what may we do for you?"

Javert let his hand drop from Cosette's thigh and turned to the couple.

"Are you the proprietors of this inn?" he asked the man.

"Indeed we are, Monsieur, indeed we are." The man bowed deeply. "Has anybody had cause to complain?" he asked. Then his eyes fell on Cosette. "Perhaps about the girl?" he continued. "Has she done something? - Have you stolen anything?" he addressed Cosette.

The woman picked at his sleeve to quiet him.

"What is your name?" Javert inquired of the couple.

"Thénardier," the woman replied sullenly. "Why do you want to know?" Any politeness she might have assumed was cast to the wind. She looked ready to bolt.

"You are, I take it, the guardians of this girl?" Javert continued.

"Yes."

"I am here to take her with me to Montreuil-sur-Mer at the request of her late mother."

The word 'late' had an interesting effect on the couple. It took a moment to register that their cash cow had ceased to exist. But once this moment had passed, Javert saw the disappointment cease and shrewdness blossom in both their faces. No doubt they were plotting how to squeeze more money out of the situation.

"Come down," Javert said to Cosette and held out his arms to help her. "Go and fetch your things. And be quick about it, girl."

"But there is still an outstanding bill," the Thénardier woman proclaimed - much to the surprise of her husband whose expression displayed profound puzzlement.

"What kind of bill?" Javert stopped in his movement. Instead of putting Cosette on the ground, he held her in his arms.

"Doctor's bills," the woman replied. "She was ill and we had to buy expensive medicines."

"Yes," Javert confirmed sarcastically. "I know all about your expenses, even to the point of the warm blanket that you needed to buy. A blanket - but apparently you couldn't find proper shoes for her. No doubt the blanket, if it was bought, adorns your own bed now."

The Thénardiers' looks turned to pure hatred. Javert felt Cosette's arms hug him tight and she started trembling. She was afraid, he realized. But he didn't have the time to do anything about it now. First, he had to deal with the threat in front of them.

His eyes changed to that piercing look he was famous for among the criminal element, and he had the satisfaction to see both the woman and her husband step back uneasily.

Cosette relaxed her grip on him.

"Go now, girl," he said softly to Cosette, "fetch everything that is yours and bring it outside. We are leaving."

He sat Cosette down and she ran inside. The girl did not see the look that passed between her 'guardians'.

 

"Oh, Monsieur l'Inspecteur, we need more time," the woman lamented when the girl had gone. "Soon it will be nightfall. Won't you stay for the night, so we can give Cosette a proper farewell?"

"Yes, come inside, Inspector, and honour us by being our guest," her husband chimed in. "Taking our little treasure away," - an expression that made Javert raise his eyebrows - "you owe us that much."

Javert gave a sarcastic chuckle, "And risk having my life taken, so you can't be held responsible for your treatment of the girl and can even keep her on? I don't think so."

Thénardier was a man who might be sly, but at Javert's words he had trouble guarding his feelings. Another wave of unchecked hatred passed over his face; then it was gone.

"You do us an injustice," his wife spoke up. "Not every innkeeper is a criminal, Inspector," she then added.

"Perhaps not," Javert conceded. He didn't say any more, and it became clear that he did _not_ exclude the couple in front of him from such a possibility.

 

In the door stood Cosette, cradling a dirty rag in her arms.

"Come here, Cosette, we are leaving," Javert told her. "Is that all you got?" he asked when he saw that the rag was the only thing she had brought.

She nodded.

"Blanket, eh?" Javert sneered at the Thénardier woman whose look turned cold.

"Come, Cosette," Javert repeated. He sat her on the horse and said, "Tonight we'll sleep at the inn 'La Croix du Grès', and tomorrow we'll continue on to Montreuil-sur-Mer."

A sly look appeared in Thénardier's face at his words.

As soon as he was mounted, Javert turned the horse towards the road and they left.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "La Croix du Grès" is an actual accommodation in Valaurie/France. The name means "sandstone crucifix". There is no link to "Les Misérables", but I liked both the name and the look of it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"Not at all, Inspector. Thank you for your information. I'm sure your plan will work out."

Javert shook the Sergeant's hand. "Let's hope so."

"Now, you make sure you give my best regards to Madame Clément."

"I will," Javert answered.

 

"Come here, Cosette," Sergeant Pontier called out. Cosette ran over to him and jumped into his arms. "You be a good girl now, Cosette, do you hear?"

She nodded seriously. The sergeant heaved her up on the saddle and Javert took his seat behind her. The two men exchanged another look, then Javert led the horse away.

 

Like before, Cosette sat in front. In the short time they had spent at the police station, she had changed remarkably. While Javert had talked to the chief of the station, Sergeant Pontier, some of the police officers had taken it upon themselves to fabricate some clothing for Cosette.

Naturally, they had had nothing that might fit a girl of seven. And so they had assembled a man's shirt, a blanket, some rope and scissors, and they had applied a lot of imagination.

Now, Cosette was wearing her feet wrapped in stripes of cloth that had been cut off the blanket. To prevent the cloth from falling off her feet again, a considerable amount of string was wound carefully around her feet and calves. One of the elder policemen, having been a sailor in his youth and very knowledgeable about ropes and knots, had secured the fabric with seaman's knots just below her knees.

The man's shirt - a torn one and not fit to adorn a police uniform - had been added to her raggedy-dress and carefully buttoned up. It looked like a floor-length make-shift dress on Cosette. However, when the men had tried to make a coat out of the rest of the blanket they had found that it was impossible to drape a rectangular piece of cloth in such a way that the girl would be covered.

Finally, the youngest of the policemen had had an idea. He had cut a hole in the middle of the blanket. The hole was big enough for Cosette's head to fit through. Now the blanket - true to its name - _blanketed_ her, and it was still big enough to cover her all around almost down to her feet. With Javert's torso warming her from behind, Cosette felt safe, comfortable and happy.

 

As they were riding off, Cosette turned and waved good-bye to the men.

"I see you made friends among the policemen," Javert remarked.

"Those men were policemen?" Her voice sounded all small and scared.

"Yes." Javert leaned forward and turned her head so he could look at her face.

"Cosette, why are you afraid? They helped you, didn't they?"

Reluctantly, she nodded.

"I'm a policeman, too," Javert said, and again the girl was startled.

_What the hell had the Thénardiers told her about police?_ Javert wondered. But he realized that there was nothing he could do now. They would have to make haste to arrive at the inn before it was dark.

 

~~~

 

Just before nightfall, they reached the inn 'La Croix de Grès'. It was a big building; easily twice as big as the one Cosette had spent the last years in.

"I am looking for Madame Clément," Javert told the stable-boy who came to take the horse.

"She is inside," was the answer.

 

Inside the inn it was warm and loud. It smelled of people, tobacco and food. A lot of people sat at the tables eating dinner.

"Welcome, Monsieur," a friendly-looking woman greeted them. Javert saw that she was sizing them both up and he became aware of the fact that he and Cosette must be a strange sight, indeed. A policeman leading a little girl in ill-fabricated clothes into an inn was definitely not a daily occurrence.

"Are you Madame Clément?" he asked the woman.

"Oui, monsieur."

"I stopped at the police station at Montfermeil, and Sergeant Pontier asked me to pass on his regards," Javert stated.

Immediately, the woman's stance changed. She relaxed and smiled at him. "Thank you, Monsieur. And how is Francois doing, may I ask?"

"Well enough," Javert answered. He felt uncomfortable; small-talk had never been his forte. "He was able to help me with my task."

"And what task was that?"

"I am to escort this girl to Montreuil-sur-Mer," Javert explained. "Her situation was... well, shall we say _unfortunate_ , and Sergeant Pontier recommended we stay here for the night, both for the girl's and my own safety."

At his words Madame Clément raised her eyebrows. "I understand, Monsieur. Please," her arm moved in a welcoming sweep, "come. I'll have a room prepared for you both."

"Thank you."

"And what is your name, little one?" the woman asked Cosette.

"I'm called Cosette."

"What a pretty name," the woman exclaimed. "Before we can feed you dinner, though, you will have to take a bath," she added. "You cannot sit down at the table when you are so dirty."

Cosette's head sank on her chest.

"Don't worry, girl," Madame Clément continued, "it won't take long. Come with me, and we'll clean you up, alright?"

Tentatively, Cosette raised her eyes - and looked up into a benevolently smiling face. Hesitantly, she smiled back.

Madame Clément took Cosette's hand, then she nodded to Javert. "The maid here will show you to your room, Inspector. Cosette will come soon to join you there for a hearty supper."

Javert bowed to the inn's mistress and she vanished with Cosette.

Cosette was bathed, her clothes were washed and hanged to dry, and from the depths of a drawer the landlady provided a nightshirt for her, pristine and clean.

 

 

"Look at you!" Javert exclaimed when Cosette stood in the door of their room with the landlady, "you look fresh and clean now, just like a girl should."

"Monsieur..." Madame Clément gave a wink and a gesture to ask him aside and Javert complied.

"The girl has bruises all over her body. I saw it when I bathed her."

Javert nodded. "I already suspected as much. There were some bruises visible when she was still in her rags."

"Tomorrow, I'll give you a proper dress for her," Madame Clément said, but Javert shook his head.

"I do not have the means to pay for this, Madame, no matter how much the girl may need it."

"There is no need to pay me, Monsieur." A sad smile appeared on the woman's face. "I've kept those clothes for many years now. My daughter died when she was Cosette's age, and I haven't been able to dispose of her things ever since. It will be so much better to give her dress to Cosette than keep it in the wardrobe forever."

There were tears audible in her voice. Javert panicked. He did not wish to hear of the woman's sad past and the no-doubt tragic death of her daughter. There was nothing he, Javert, could do about it, anyway. The past was the past. _Consoling people was for someone like Monsieur Madeleine to do, not him!_

So he just nodded. "Thank you, Madame."

Quickly, Madame Clément vanished - to the inspector's relief. A moment later, both he and Cosette savoured the soup and bread.

 

 

"It's time to go to bed," Javert said after they had finished their meal. "We will have to get up very early tomorrow. We have a long way ahead of us."

Suddenly, the girl's fear was back. He could see it from the way her eyes first darted towards the bed, and then to him. When he moved, she looked towards the door as if trying to figure out how to escape through it.

He froze. _Were the Thénardiers guilty of more than mere bruises?_ The possibility sickened him.

He took stock of the room's furniture. There was only one bed in their room. The two chairs that were provided wouldn't make a suitable replacement - especially since their journey the next day would be an arduous one. _He could not give up the bed to the girl. They had to share. What to do?_

 

 

_A boy of ten; he is alone in a dark street, searching through the garbage for food._

_Two men walk along the narrow street spotting him._

_The boy stops and observes the men as they come closer. He becomes aware of the fact that he is in a cul-de-sac._

_The men walk nonchalantly and watch him as they are approaching._

_The boy tries to figure out how to get past them, but the alley is very narrow. A quick look around reveals there is no way to hide or run, and there is nothing to defend himself with._

_As they are coming closer still, the men exchange a smile, one makes a crude gesture._

_Immediately, the boy runs straight at them, shoving one of them forcefully to get past. Although the man reaches for him, the impact makes him stumble and he can only grab the boy's dirty shirt._

_The boy runs. He hears his shirt rip, but is not distracted by it. He runs on for dear life._

_Never again, he swears to himself, will he get cornered like this!_

 

 

Those big, scared eyes still stared at Javert, trying to figure him out.

"I will climb into the bed first and sleep at the far end near the wall," Javert explained, "and then you lie in front near the fire. That way you won't get cold."

Cosette eyed the door again. It was locked for the night - naturally. Javert walked over.

"I will unlock the door," he said, and did so, "so you won't have to wake me if you need to go to the privy at night. Alright?"

There was no answer, and he had expected none. _Who knew what she had been submitted to by those cursed inn-keepers._ But Javert also knew that even if Cosette tried to run, there was no place for her to run to!

The alley and his narrow escape flashed through Javert's mind again, and he was glad that he could hand over the girl to Monsieur Madeleine the next evening - the girl, and any problems that came with her!

He fetched his coat and climbed into the bed.

"Come, Cosette," he said, "you will take the blanket, and I will wrap myself in my coat."

Hesitantly, the girl approached the bed and climbed in. Javert tucked her up and then rolled as far away from her as was possible.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

They hadn't been resting long when, suddenly, loud noise disturbed them. A man in heavy boots came running up the stairs. Javert turned and looked at Cosette, but she didn't bat an eye. Having lived in an inn she was used to that kind of noise. She didn't perceive it as threatening.

The boots - whoever they belonged to - stomped past their door and along the corridor. A door could be heard slamming, and the noise disappeared.

A few minutes later, a rhythmic creaking of bedsprings came from the neighbouring room. Again, Javert observed Cosette's reaction, but she lay calmly with her eyes closed. Her small hands clutched the bed sheets; she breathed in regularly and seemed asleep.

Javert began to relax. _Perhaps Cosette's abuse was limited to the bruises on her skin. If so, then with the fading of the bruises she would surely forget the bad events of her past and leave her former life behind. In any case, Mayor Madeleine would make sure that from now on Cosette's life would be easy. The girl would not have to lift a finger for herself._

 

***

_"So you wish to work for us, do you?"_

_The boy from the alley, now fourteen years old, nods solemnly._

_"Why should we take in a stray from the street? Who is to say we can trust you?"_

_The boy stays silent. He knows that it does not matter what he might answer. He will either be taken in or chased away; it all depends on the man's mood. He, the boy, has exhausted all influence over his own fate already by summoning his courage and knocking at the door. He can do no more._

_The man observes the boy closely. The boy doesn't shirk from the man's inspection. If anything, he is standing straighter, his eyes staring back, conveying his burning wish to be given a chance._

_That fateful day, the orphan boy Javert is taken in by the gatekeeper at Toulon Prison. He vows to himself to do his best and never - ever! - give up._

 

Sometimes old memories of his childhood are haunting him. Each time he lives through them, Inspector Javert tells himself that he need no longer worry about past pain. He tells himself that he has already overcome all obstacles and that he couldn't wish for a more fulfilling life.

Most of the times, this works. Only occasionally, a quiet murmur makes itself known. The murmur speaks of things lacking - but what those things are Inspector Javert is unwilling to decipher. Over the years he has become quite proficient at ignoring this occasional murmur. 

_***_

 

Back in the inn Javert had almost fallen asleep when a man's voice shouted: "She was stolen from me. She's mine! Where is she?"

Cosette came awake with a shriek, and Javert realized that the voice must belong to her tormentor Thénardier.

Downstairs a commotion ensued. Javert thought to hear Madame Clément's voice, but couldn't be sure about it.

He climbed out of bed and slipped into his boots - he hadn't bothered to undress before lying down, - then he donned his coat. Every inch the intimidating inspector, he walked to the door where he stopped briefly and turned to Cosette. "Stay inside," he said to her and left.

Outside the door he glanced over the railing into the dining hall. Thénardier and two ragged men stood there surrounded by Sergeant Pontier and four of his policemen.

"I tell you, she is mine! She was taken from me without permission! The man is a thief, most likely a dealer in children. Who knows what he is doing to my little treasure right now. Tell me where he is! Where is he?"

Thénardier's performance was quite good, Javert had to give him that. He displayed the perfect picture of a distressed parent looking for their missing child.

Suddenly Thénardier's eyes fell upon Javert. "That's him!" he shouted and pointed to the Inspector.

"That man is a police officer, Monsieur," Sergeant Pontier said pointedly.

"Don't you believe it!" Thénardier fired back. "That uniform is probably stolen, too. He did it to fool everybody, so he could pass as respectable while all he wanted to do was sneak into my inn and steal my precious girl."

"And how would he do that?" Sergeant Pontier asked.

"I don't know; you'd have to ask him!" Thénardier replied. "He sure rode off quickly to make it all the way from Montfermeil to here." Thénardier hesitated. Apparently, he realized that it was quite far-fetched that he could have found Javert in this inn by mere chance... unless he knew exactly where Javert was going!

"I am lucky that I found him," he added weakly.

By now Javert had arrived in front of Thénardier and exchanged a short glance with Sergeant Pontier. Then he addressed his accuser. "Your precious girl?" he asked. "If she was so precious to you, why did you clothe her in rags and left her feet bare in the middle of winter?"

The inn's patrons had quieted down, and most of them were following the scene closely.

"Ahhhh, not everybody is rich, Monsieur," Thénardier lamented, delivering an impeccable performance of hurt pride, "I am sure there are enough people around who understand how painful it is to have one's little girl forego warm clothing in winter."

A quick look around revealed to Javert that the people witnessing the scene were divided in their sympathies. _Yes, Police were authority, but all-too-often they did not act in the interest of the weak and vulnerable, and on top of it nobody here knew Javert, Inspector of the Police Force of Montreuil-sur-Mer. The people in the inn might easily believe Thénardier's lies. Good that Sergeant Pontier and his police officers were present._

"I know this man, Monsieur," Sergeant Pontier addressed Thénardier in Javert's stead. "Before he visited your inn to fetch the girl, he came to my police station. He presented an official document from the Mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer, and he spoke to me of his police work there. I can assure you that he really is an officer of the law. Furthermore, the girl is not yours, is she?" the Sergeant continued. "She is merely a ward you are paid to care for."

Thénardier shot him a glance full of hatred. His two companions - each with a restrictive police presence at their sides - started to shift uncomfortably on their feet. But Thénardier wasn't giving up yet.

"Bring the girl to me, Sergeant, and she will tell you herself how much I love her," he made an attempt to sway the people's mood in his favour again.

" _'Love'_? I know exactly how much you 'loved' her," an angry voice suddenly shouted out loud.

Nobody had paid any attention to Madame Clément who stood a few paces away, but the moment she moved people immediately stepped aside. She was a respected woman with an immaculate reputation. Her inn was a place of comfort and warmth to her guests, and she often helped them above and beyond her duty as innkeeper. Madame Clément's honesty and integrity were well-known. Seeing her aflame with rage - as she was now - was a completely new experience for her patrons.

"The girl was in rags and dirty like a beggar when I laid eyes on her tonight," Madame Clément said, "And when I bathed her I saw a body covered in bruises. That is how much you 'loved' her!"

Thénardier, now in a firm police grip, opened his mouth to talk back when Madame Clément forcefully spat in his face!

Everybody froze. The inn turned completely silent. Nobody wanted to be the first to move and draw attention to them. It was Sergeant Pontier who finally ended the silence.

"Monsieur, we followed you and your... _helpers_ ever since you left Montfermeil. Me and my police officers watched the three of you sniff about this place outside. Then you came in here and started sounding out people whether or not they had seen a little girl and where she could be found," Sergeant Pontier stated.

Thénardier made a gesture and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the Sergeant. "Monsieur, we found you and your.. _associates_ armed with knives and pistols. The mistress of the inn, Madame Clément, asked you to leave, yet you did persist in..."

"But my girl..." Thénardier interrupted and was immediately gripped from behind by two policemen.

"If you really did believe that a crime had been committed, then why did you not inform the police?" Sergeant Pontier asked. "Instead you accused a man you hoped nobody would know and, therefore, not care about... should he go missing. Monsieur, I believe it was _you_ who tried to do something unlawful tonight."

The Sergeant's accusation hung in the air, yet Thénardier failed to come up with an appropriate remark to defend himself.

 

"I know this man and his inn," a guest finally said and stepped up. "I once slept there, and when I woke up the next morning, my wooden box was missing. I had inherited this box from my parents, and it was precious to me. The innkeepers dared tell me to my face that I was drunk and that I hadn't brought a box with me in the first place! When I mentioned that I would have to summon the police, this man" - he indicated Thénardier - "threw me out of his inn and threatened to have me followed to 'finish' our business."

"Why did you not report this?" Javert asked.

The guest shrugged. "I didn't dare to. I was afraid I would be killed. That box might have been an heirloom, but what would my wife and sons do if I were killed?"

Sergeant Pontier nodded. "I understand, Monsieur. Are you willing to testify against this man now?"

"Yes, I am!"

"Good. We will raid his inn first thing tomorrow. Perhaps your box can still be found." Then he turned to his policemen. "Let's take these men to the station." The policemen busied themselves by cuffing the three men.

Before he left the Sergeant turned to Javert. "You suspected right. Goodbye and good luck, Inspector."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Javert answered and both men shook hands.

Suddenly Sergeant Pontier looked up and waved.

Javert turned and saw Cosette standing behind the railing watching the scene and waving back at the Sergeant.

"Just like a little angel with this soft blonde hair of hers, isn't she?" Sergeant Pontier asked. Javert had the impression that it wasn't him, though, the Sergeant was addressing, but Madame Clément.

Then, with a brutal gesture, Sergeant Pontier clamped his fist into Thénardier's shirt collar and shoved him towards the door. Javert saw Cosette smile at that.

He bowed to Madame Clément, "Good night, Madame."

"Good night, Inspector." Madame Clément had looked at Cosette. As she turned to face Javert, there were tears in her eyes again. Javert hastened to return to his room.

 

 

"To bed, girl. It is high time we were asleep," Javert ushered Cosette inside.

While he took off his coat and boots, Cosette climbed into bed and held up the covers for Javert to join her.

Leaving his coat on the chair, he complied. As soon as he had settled, Cosette came close and snuggled up to him. She put her head on his chest and her little fist clenched into his shirt. She made it impossible for him to shift her in any way. Confused by her sudden change in attitude, Javert remained stock-still. Gingerly, he raised his hand to her head and started to stroke her hair.

"It's alright now," he said to her, "that man won't be able to hurt you any longer. He will go to jail."

She sighed deeply at his words and snuggled even closer.

Javert kept stroking Cosette's hair until he fell asleep. _Yes, Sergeant Pontier had been right. Her hair was really soft..._

 

~~~

 

_Oh, the blessings of modern science and the knowledge derived thereof!_

_Oxytocin is such a potent hormone. Also known as the 'love hormone', it is crucial to make people - or animals - bond with each other. It has its place in the bonding of a parent and a child, and it is also responsible for the bonding of lovers. When the body is awash with oxytocin, its owner - whether animal or human - has no choice but to connect, to care, and to love..._

 

That night, the man and the little girl slept in each other's arms while said hormone went to work on them. As both the man and the child had been deprived of that particular hormone's benefits practically all their lives, the two of them were both deeply in need of its workings and also completely unaware of its potency. Silently doing its work, it would decide their future fate.

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning saw Javert and Cosette get up before sunrise to start their journey.

Madame Clément made good on her promise and provided a dress for Cosette, complete with pantaloons, stockings, and warm boots, ignoring the Inspector's protests. She did not have a coat, though, and co Cosette was fitted with the cut-up blanket again - and a warm shawl in addition. Javert suspected that the shawl was Madame Clément's, for it was much too large for a girl of seven. However, the good woman would not be persuaded to take it back. In her opinion, Cosette needed it much more than she did - and she argued that the girl would outgrow the dress eventually, but she might keep and use the shawl a good while longer.

The nightshirt, Cosette's old, raggedy black dress and the dirty rag she had brought with her were wrapped up in a bundle to which Madame Clément added two apples - "just in case you'll get hungry on the journey."

Javert observed Madame Clément's eyes filling with tears again at her words and he was anxious to leave before the woman's feelings might overwhelm her and turn her into a living fountain.

And so, after a final good-bye, Javert and Cosette were on their way.

 

***

 

Unfortunately, the weather had changed. It was snowing, and an icy wind blew, biting into their faces.

Javert sighed inwardly. With this weather their journey would take much longer than he had anticipated - perhaps too long to reach Montreuil-sur-Mer that night. In his head he calculated whether he had enough money to spend yet another night in an inn and cursed himself. _He was a fool to have refused the Mayor's offer of money to cover his travel expenditures!_

Javert patted his horse's neck. Gymont was a wonderful horse. He was reliable and calm. Nothing, not even a sudden gunshot or an angry mob, could make him panic. Furthermore, he was very sure-footed, and in this weather it was an asset Javert wouldn't want to have gone without. No matter how long their journey would take, they were travelling as safely as possible.

 

 

Naturally, Cosette wasn't aware of any of the Inspector's worries. She was content to sit in front of him with a clear view of the road and Javert's body warming her from behind. When the wind picked up blowing ice-cold snowflakes into her face, she closed her eyes and ducked into her blanket-coat imagining that she was a princess that had been rescued from evil fiends and was now riding off to a castle on a cloud with her handsome knight on his strong horse. 

But no matter how reliable and steady Gymont might be, after a few hours all three of them were exhausted. When an inn came within sight, Javert decided to stop there for an extended rest.

 

***

 

The innkeepers were a nice, elderly couple and their inn was very small. Javert and Cosette were their only guests. While her husband made sure that Gymont was stabled and fed well, the lady went to prepare a hot soup.

Javert and Cosette sat in front of the fire warming up. Cosette had taken her dirty rag out of the bundle and held it in her arms. Javert watched her. He wasn't exactly sure what the rag meant for he and what she was trying to do with it, but he could see and understood that it must mean some sort of comfort to her.

Above the fireplace holly had been placed in honour of the season, and the windowsills were decorated with toys.

"It will be Christmas soon," Javert said to Cosette pointing to the decoration around them. "Look."

Cosette looked at the holly and the toys he had pointed out but didn't speak.

"Do you know what Christmas is?" Javert asked.

She shook her head.

_No, of course not._

He sighed. _How to explain that to her? He wasn't exactly pious, and the girl would certainly not appreciate a lesson in theology. What could he say that would make an impression on a seven-year-old? - No,_ he decided, _he wasn't the right person to explain this concept to her. Let Mayor Madeleine do it once she was in his house._

Again, Javert tried to imagine the kind of life that lay in store for the little girl who had known abuse and neglect for such a long time.

"You know," he started speaking again, "once we are in Montreuil-sur-Mer, you will live in a big house and you will have a room of your own."

That certainly got her attention. "All to myself?"

"Yes."

A shy smile made its way to her lips.

"And you are there, too?"

Javert nodded. "Yes, I live in Montreuil-sur-Mer, too. I am the Police Inspector there."

"Policemen are nice people," Cosette remarked and Javert couldn't help but smirk at that. _There. The Thénardiers's influence was evaporating already._

"Monsieur, your soup is ready."

 

 

The soup was a very simple one, but it was hot and delicious. Both Cosette and Javert were served big portions with thick slices of freshly-baked bread. After they had finished, Cosette took out her two apples. One apple she placed in front of Javert before biting heartily into her own.

Javert was taken aback by the gesture. He couldn't remember ever having shared any food with anybody.

He took the apple in his hand and weighed it thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Cosette. I will feed this apple to Gymont."

"Who is Gymont?"

"The horse. He has taken us through the snow for hours. Don't you think he deserves an apple?"

At this, the girl nodded vigorously.

"We should probably be going now, anyway," Javert continued. "Come on, let's go to Gymont and feed him."

 

 

The stable was located right behind the inn. Gymont was the only horse inside. He had been resting on a thick layer of straw, but now that his master was here, he rose and gave a quiet whinny in greeting.

Javert opened the door to the box and stepped inside. "Hello boy," he greeted Gymont with a pat to his neck, "did you have a good rest?"

A snort was the answer.

Javert smiled and picked some straw out of the horse's mane.

"Come in, Cosette," he called. "Don't be afraid."

Slowly, the girl came inside. Gymont lowered his head and sniffed her hair. It made her giggle.

Javert took a small knife out of his pocket and started slicing the apple. The first two slices he fed to Gymont himself.

"See, Cosette, this is how to do it. You place the apple on your palm and he picks it up. - Now you try it."

Cautiously, Cosette extended her hand and Javert placed a big slice of apple on it. Carefully, Cosette raised her hand up. Gymont sniffed at the little hand and - with the least slobber possible - picked the apple from her palm with his lips.

Cosette's face was all wonder and surprise.

"Do you want to try it again?" Javert asked smiling, knowing perfectly well that the girl would say yes.

Again, she nodded vigorously but didn't speak.

Again and again, Javert cut a slice from the apple, and Cosette fed it to Gymont until the last bit was gone.

"Good boy," Javert praised the horse and his hand stroked over the horses nose and muzzle.

"Me, too," Cosette begged, and Javert lifted her in his arms so she could reach the tall horse. Over and over the little girl stroked and patted the big animal. Especially the soft muzzle and the hairs on it held her attention. When Gymont's nose came close enough to the girl's face, Cosette placed a soft kiss on it.

"We have to go on now," Javert stopped the tender moment and put Cosette down again. "Here. Give this to the lady in the inn," he handed her a few coins, "and don't forget to bring out our baggage."

She nodded and ran into the inn while Javert saddled Gymont.

 

 

During their stay, the weather had improved vastly. It had stopped snowing, the wind had gone, and the road did not look as slippery as before.

Javert urged Gymont to a light trot. The trot made Cosette shake about in the saddle and she found it difficult to keep her balance. Desperately, she clung to the saddle's pommel. But then Javert clamped one arm around her so she had to move in concord with his own body which was in perfect accord with the horse and its movements. A minute later Cosette was already giggling.

When they passed some fields that had been readied for the winter, Javert urged Gymont into a canter and they flew across the land. Cosette laughed and cried "More!" when they came to the end of the field, but Javert had to decline; canter on the road was too dangerous. He was happy, though, that the girl took so easily to the horse and to riding.

It was just before sunset that they entered the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer.

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

As they rode through the streets, Cosette looked around curiously. In her young life, she had never seen anything like this town. The houses stretched as far as she could see. The streets were wide and lots of wagons rumbled along. Numerous people were bustling about. The people looked busy, not miserable, and quite a few of them greeted the Inspector respectfully as he rode past with Cosette. Javert always answered with a polite nod.

Lanterns illuminated the streets, and Cosette saw shop after shop with wares displayed enticingly in their windows. Most of the shopkeepers had put up a decoration in honour of the season, and Cosette took in the colourful picture as Gymont walked by. They passed a tailor's shop. The tailor had put a boy's and a girl's outfit side-by-side on display. Between the two outfits stood a big basket filled to the brim with apples, oranges, walnuts, and almonds! Suddenly the door to the next shop opened, some customers left, and the smell of freshly-baked bread wafted over to Cosette reminding her how hungry she was.

 

Javert rode straight to the Police Stable. A young man in uniform greeted them. To Cosette he looked exactly like her friends back in Montfermeil.

"Welcome back, Inspector. The Mayor has already asked for you."

Javert sighed and dismounted. "There was no possibility to come back faster; the weather closed in on us. But thanks to the horse, we made it just in time before dusk." To emphasize his praise, he patted Gymont on the neck and the horse snorted as if trying to confirm his statement.

"I'll take care of the horse for you, Inspector," the young man offered.

"Thank you, Constable. I'll be off to Monsieur le Maire now." With this, he hauled Cosette off the horse, took their bundles and turned to go.

"Ah, there you finally are, Inspector!" a deep voice boomed.

Cosette turned and saw a big-bellied man with a bald head and a huge moustache.

"Ah, Sergeant Colbert. Did anything of note happen during my absence?"

"Two arrests, a quarrel in a pub with a knifer wounding a patron, and a spat between husband and wife disturbing the peace. Everything is under control, Inspector."

"Good. I'll be off to see Monsieur Madeleine, then I'll come back to the station for a more detailed report."

"Inspector, I imagine you've been riding all day. Coming in tomorrow morning is soon enough."

For a moment Javert felt put off and irritated, but then he nodded his consent. _Sergeant Colbert was an efficient second-in-command, and there was no need to give him the feeling that he wasn't trusted by his superior._

"You are quite right, Sergeant. I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

He received a wide smile for his response. "A demain, Inspector." (*)

 

***

 

"See, Cosette, this is the house you will live in," Javert pointed out the Mayor's house as they were walking towards it.

Cosette saw a small house situated between two similar houses. And yet, the house they were approaching was different. Like the neighbouring houses, it had big windows with white lace curtains. But unlike its neighbours, in this house there seemed to be candles burning in every room, for all the windows emanated a warm glow. It looked very cosy and welcoming.

When they reached the door, Cosette saw a big wreath had been hung. On the wreath there were numerous small stars, all fashioned from straw. Amidst the green of the needles and the yellow of the straw, a long rosary with black beads and a cross was draped. It was an unusual decoration and a symbol for the industry that "Père Madeleine" had started in this town years ago, and with which he had propelled it on a course of prosperity.

Cosette didn't know any of this, but just like her impression of the streets she found that this house - her new home! - looked different than anything she had ever dreamed of. She smiled up at Javert happily. "It's beautiful."

Javert knocked on the door. Hasty steps could be heard. Someone was approaching fast.

When the door was opened, Cosette perceived an old man with white hair smiling widely at them.

"Ah, Javert, there you are, finally. Come in, come in, man; it's cold!"

Javert touched Cosette's shoulder and she stepped inside first. The old man with the white hair turned to her. "And this must be Cosette. How are you, child?" he asked and went down on his haunches to face her.

"This is Monsieur Madeleine, Cosette," Javert explained. "He is the Mayor of the town."

The man smiled at her. "Hello Cosette," he said. Tentatively, Cosette smiled back. "Bonsoir," (*)she said, and then added, "Monsieur." The old man's eyes were very soft and Cosette decided that she liked his smile.

From behind the Mayor, a 'tsk, tsk' sound could be heard. A rotund woman arrived in the corridor.

"Monsieur le Maire, you should not stay in the draughty corridor... ah, the little girl... finally. Inside, everybody. Dinner has been ready for quite a while yet."

"Yes," the Mayor said. "Come inside. You must be hungry. You, too, Javert. I should not think you've had dinner yet, did you?"

Javert shook his head. "No. We had to make haste to arrive before sunset."

"Good, good," Monsieur Madeleine murmured. "Let's eat together, and then Cosette can go upstairs and inspect her room."

At the mention of _her_ room, the girl turned and gave Javert another happy smile. No doubt she remembered their earlier conversation about the comforts that awaited her. Javert nodded to her, relieved that he had been right in his assumption.

 

The Mayor led them into the dining room. Javert had been to Monsieur Madeleine's house before, but it had only ever been on business.

On the table in the dining room, three places had been laid out festively. In the Centre stood two silver candlesticks. As Cosette looked around, she could see burning candles everywhere, giving a bright light and a warm glow to the room in addition to the fire that was roaring in the fireplace.

On the dinner table, apart from the plates, cutlery and glasses, there were two bowls with food already; one held apples and various nuts, and the other was filled with cookies.

"Cosette, you sit over here," the old man... _no, 'Monsieur Madeleine',_ told her and pointed to a chair on which a big cushion had been placed. He helped her sit. The cushion made her taller and she could sit at the table almost like an adult. Javert, too, sat down.

The woman returned with two carafes and started filling their glasses, first with water, and then wine for the men. Both Javert and Madeleine observed Cosette. Her eyes seemed glued to the bowl with the apples.

"Would you like an apple, Cosette?" Monsieur Madeleine asked her.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Take one, then," he told her, and she walked over and carefully selected an apple.

"First dinner, then dessert," the woman scolded, but the Mayor waved her off. "Tonight is an exception. If Cosette wants to eat an apple first, then she may do so."

But Cosette didn't want to eat the apple. Instead she walked with it to Javert. "Can we give this to Gymont?" she asked.

Javert shook his head. "Not tonight, Cosette. Gymont has already been fed, and he is now asleep in his stable. You can go and feed him tomorrow."

Cosette nodded and put the apple on the table in front of Javert who hesitated only a second before tucking it in his pocket. Then they both smiled at each other and Cosette went back to her seat.

Valjean, who had been awaiting Cosette's arrival impatiently, was astonished at the little stab of jealousy he felt at Javert's and Cosette's actions. Their smiles felt like a conspiracy to him.

After Cosette was seated again, the woman brought in two huge plates. One held fried potatoes and the other was filled with vegetables. Then she vanished to get even more food.

The next plate she brought held two entire chickens, both carefully roasted and surrounded with green beans. The food smelled divine and Cosette's stomach decided it should pay its compliments to the cook by giving a loud growl.

"She looks as though it were already Christmas for her," Madeleine said to Javert. "Would you like some chicken, Cosette?" he then addressed the girl.

Enthusiastically, and without losing sight of the plates, she nodded. Madeleine stood and fetched Cosette's plate. Then he served her a huge portion of meat and vegetables - much more than a girl of her size and age could possibly eat up.

"Javert?"

"Monsieur le Maire?"

Madeleine smiled and extended a hand towards the Inspector. "Your plate, please."

"Oh."

Javert, too, received a huge portion; then the Mayor took some food for himself. He sat down again and raised his glass.

"This is a happy day. Today, Cosette has come to live here," he said. Cosette, astonished that she had been addressed, quickly looked at Javert for guidance. He had also raised his glass and simply nodded to her. Not sure if it was what was expected, Cosette took hold of her own glass of water.

"May you be very happy here in this house, Cosette," Monsieur Madeleine said. Then he drank from his wine and Javert did the same. Cosette took a sip of water, but she was hungry, not thirsty. As soon as she saw that the two men started to eat, she took a chicken leg in her little hand and bit heartily into it.

The meal was delicious, and Cosette ate as much as she could while Javert related to Monsieur Madeleine what had happened in Montfermeil.

At first, Cosette was listening attentively to Javert's tale, but the excitement of the last two days had exhausted her, and after eating her fill, she almost fell asleep at the table.

 

"Cosette," Monsieur Madeleine said, "why don't you take your bundle and I will show you your room. It is time you were asleep."

Obediently, Cosette slid off her chair and fetched her bundle.

Javert, too, rose. "I should be leaving now, Monsieur le Maire. Thank you for dinner."

Madeleine waved off his thanks. "Nonsense. It was the least I could do for you after bringing the girl here. - As a matter of fact, you should come to dinner more often, Javert."

Javert did not answer. Instead he fetched his greatcoat. Cosette, who was already climbing the stairs following the housekeeper, suddenly realized that something was wrong.

_Why did the Inspector wear his coat? Why did he put on his hat? Didn't he come up with her? Would he not sleep beside her tonight? Did he plan to leave her alone???_

"No!" She rushed down the stairs and hurled herself at him.

"It's alright, Cosette. You live here now, with Monsieur Madeleine," Javert said, but Cosette would have none of it.

"NO!" She fought off Toussaint, the Mayor's housekeeper, who wanted to take her arm and drag her away. Her little fingers clawed into Javert's greatcoat. Javert went down on his haunches.

"Cosette, what is the matter?" he asked. "This is your new home. You live here with Monsieur Madeleine now."

Violently she shook her head no. Tears appeared in her eyes, and she let go of his coat only to cling her arms around his neck in a grip so hard that prying her away wold have meant breaking her delicate bones.

Confused and helpless, Javert stood up, thereby lifting the girl in his arms.

"Cosette..." he tried again, but Cosette shook her head an refused to look at him, clinging to him like a little monkey to its mother.

 

Valjean was shocked at her reaction. Nothing he had said or done could have given her the fright she was exhibiting. But he saw that her panic was real. When he tried to touch her shoulder, she flinched and moved away from him, hanging on to Javert even more desperately.

It was impossible for either of them to convince Cosette to let go of Javert. In the end, Valjean - defeated and disappointed - fetched Cosette's blanket-coat, draped it over her and handed her bundle of possessions over.

With a simple "good-bye", Javert carried her outside and walked with her to his own Spartan room in a dark and quiet corner of the town.

There, like the night before, Cosette slept in his arms, clinging on to make sure she would not be separated from him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*) French words and phrases:  
> "à demain" means "until tomorrow" or "see you tomorrow"  
> "bonsoir" means "good evening"


	8. Chapter 8

_**Back in the Market Square, the present** _

It was the feeling of her small arms around his neck, holding on tight so as not to drown in the nightmare she had been living during the years of her young life that Javert remembered most clearly.

At the time Cosette's behaviour at the Mayor's had shocked him. Javert had never experienced anybody deciding with such vehemence that they were on his side; that they wanted and needed him. And him alone!

But later, when he had time to think about it, it wasn't too hard to understand her.

 

_The boy Javert is working in the prison now._

_He is getting to know the guards. They are nice and mean, brutal and friendly, aggressive and withdrawn, loud and quiet. There's all kinds, just like the people in the streets._

_One of the guards, however, has singled him out for mockery and beatings. Everything seems to provoke his wrath; the boy's gaze, the boy's work, the boy's black hair and dark complexion; even the boy's servility, and particularly his wish to please and make a place for himself within the prison walls._

_The boy Javert learns to avoid that guard whenever he can. Sometimes, when he is exhausted and the pain gets too much, he finds a place to hide and cries his fill. These are the moments when he wishes that there was someone who would take him under his wings, someone to guide him, someone to have his back. It would make his life so much easier. But there is nobody. And since the prison is an enclosed space, Javert's body wears the bruises of hatred and contempt._

 

The midday sun shone on the market place. Despite the cold of January, it was a lovely day.

Javert took in the girl in front of him remembering the weeks that had passed since she had come to Montreuil-sur-Mer.

_From day one, Cosette had clung to him, had followed him, had even imitated his ways. That fateful day when he had taken her away from the Thénardiers, that day she had decided that he, Javert, was her saviour. But while this might be flattering, it didn't allow for the fact that her following him on patrol was inherently dangerous! He must - absolutely must - impress this on her, or there might be a terrible price to pay one day!_

Je took a deep breath. "Cosette, I have repeatedly told you not to follow me when on patrol," Javert said angrily. "It is not safe for you, and you know what happens when one does not obey orders."

At that, Cosette froze. She was as silent as a mouse hiding in a mousehole.

"Well...?"

"I will get punished," came the quiet whisper.

"Yes," Javert nodded. "Everybody who breaks the law... or breaks a rule...must be punished. You knew that you were to stay at home and help Madame Mercier with the chores. Instead you ran away - again."

 

"Ah... Javert. Good day to you," a jovial voice interrupted.

Javert turned and bowed. "Monsieur le Maire."

Valjean had watched the conversation from afar. Although he hadn't heard the words that were spoken, he had observed Javert's body language, a language he remembered from many years ago. Just now he was reminded of a hound closing in on its prey. And so Valjean decided to interfere.

As he approached, the former convict Jean Valjean, aware of his power as Mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer, donned his most gracious smile. It was his 'official' smile, the one that displayed his authority and that nobody dared to cross. He was sure that not even Javert with all his rigidity and stubbornness would stand up against him should he play the power angle. And it was all for the best. After all, he only meant to save the little girl from Javert's wrath.

But in truth, there was another reason at play.

When Fantine had died and Valjean had promised to take care of her daughter, he had hoped that with the little orphan girl coming to live with him, he, too, might finally be able to have something resembling a family. Valjean was desperately aware of the fact that he could never risk anything as intimate as marriage. He didn't even dare to visit a prostitute for fear of being exposed as an ex-convict. Not only did 'Monsieur Madeleine' have to be aware of the slightest mistake he might make in behaviour or speech, Valjean's body itself could destroy the identity and life he had built for himself at one fell swoop - simply through exposure of the scars on his wrists. The esteemed Monsieur Madeleine, ' _Père_ Madeleine' to the gamins and beggars, had to hide under layers of clothes and shut himself away behind rituals and  formalities. The only time Jean Valjean was truly himself was when he was alone in his house at night.

But taking in the little orphan girl was quite a different story. Cosette could do him no harm. The child didn't know who he was, and everything she would learn about the world and about people would come from him. And if she discovered his scars, he could lie to her about them and tell her not to speak about them ever! He would love her and take care of her. Being in his charge, she would never learn anything he wasn't willing to disclose, and he would make damn sure that she would never - ever! - learn about convicts and scars and crime and the like!

 

"Hello, Cosette, how are you today?" Valjean lifted his hat to the little girl as if he was addressing a lady of rank.

Cosette smiled in relief. Granted, she might not escape Javert's punishment, but at least the Mayor's appearance ensured that said punishment would not be carried out just yet.

"Bonjour, Monsieur le Maire," she said. Then she grasped her skirt in her hands, spread it and curtseyed.

Valjean didn't have to fake his surprise. He was genuinely astonished at her behaviour.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, you are already a young lady, aren't you?" he said giving a little bow to her. "I didn't know children as young as you could curtsey."

At the word she frowned - _just like Javert,_ Valjean noticed. Apparently, she didn't know the word's meaning.

"It means 'bowing', Cosette," Javert explained. "It's what a girl does. A boy 'bows', a girl 'curtseys'."

With this her smile was back. "Yes, Monsieur," she said. "Monsieur Javert showed it to me. He said a girl does not bend down, she always has to have her head up."

"Not your head, Cosette," Javert corrected. "I said you must remain upright, remember?"

She nodded. "But it is hard," she added.

The two men laughed. Javert placed a soft hand on Cosette's hair. "Becoming an adult is hard sometimes," he said by way of explanation.

 

Javert's hand on Cosette's hair made Valjean's jealousy flare up again. _Cosette, the little duckling who adored Javert wasn't his only obstacle, it would seem. Javert began to like her, too. Javert, the merciless prison guard, a man who could flog a convict as easily as he was eating an apple, was too hard and too inhuman to be able to care for Cosette the way it should be done! He, Valjean, would have to do something about it. But what?_

"Javert, I wish to see you in my office." Valjean was aware of the fact that he had not complete control over his emotions and that they were audible in his voice, but Javert would have to obey, anyway. An order was an order, and Madeleine was Javert's superior.

"Monsieur le Maire... I have to take Cosette home first." Javert's tone mirrored his confusion at the Mayor's brash order.

"Yes, of course," Valjean gave in, "I'll see you in an hour, then."

 

~~~

 

Half an hour later Cosette and Javert arrived at the little house where they lived.

"Oh, Monsieur l'Inspecteur," Javert's landlady, Madame Mercier cried, "you have found the girl. How fortunate!"

When she saw the Inspector's eyes go hard, she hastened to explain, "I was washing when that naughty girl slipped out behind my back, and when I tried to find her..."

"Madame Mercier," Javert interrupted her tirade, "I quite noticed that you were incapable of keeping her here with you - again!"

"Oh, but Inspector, I have to do the washing, you know!"

"That is as may be, but the fact remains that you assured me that you would keep Cosette here under your surveillance, and you have failed to do so."

The lady put on her most offended expression and heaped a deep breath - but was cut short.

"If you are incapable of doing what you assured me was not a problem - then I have no choice but to look for other lodgings."

At that the good lady blanched - but Javert did not take the time to watch her reaction to his threat; he had already turned and led Cosette up the stairs into the small room he... well, now it was _they_ , inhabited.

 

"Cosette, why did you run away again?" he asked, his eyes serious, his brows furrowed. "You know you are not supposed to follow me! - I need to work, petite," he added in a much softer voice at the crestfallen look Cosette gave him.

"I want to be where you are," she said, her voice as tiny as she felt in front of the imposing inquisitor in front of her.

"Cosette..." He took her hand and guided her to stand in front of him while he sat down on the bed. "You know that there are bad places in this town, don't you?"

She nodded seriously.

"And you also know that I need to go on patrol in order to find the criminals and take them to jail."

Again, she nodded.

"Now, when you are following me, perhaps one of those criminals tries to take you and hurt you. What will happen then?"

"You will make them pay for it." It came out matter-of-factly and without hesitation.

Her answer stunned him. He frowned.

"But you will," she insisted before he could voice his objection, "just like you did with the Bad Dragon and the Bad Wolf."

For a short moment, Javert closed his eyes in desperation. She had nicknamed the Thénardier woman 'the Bad Dragon', and her husband had become 'the Bad Wolf'. Javert pinched his nose with thumb and forefinger and reminded himself that Cosette was only a small girl, not aware of the dangers lurking for her in the shadows. _But how to make her understand?_

"What if they hurt you and I cannot help you? What if they are stronger than I am?" he asked.

"They are not." She simply stepped up to him and hugged his neck burying her nose in his beard as she loved to do.

It took the wind out of his sails, all right, but it also made him despair. _For some reason she believed him to be a giant, a magician, capable of just chasing every danger away. - Oh, how he wished that were possible! - He HAD to tell her, had to make her understand, no matter how much it would hurt her._

"Cosette..." he started.

"Yes, Monsieur?" she murmured without moving an inch.

"Your behaviour was not correct, and this time you will have to be punished."

He knew that his voice was harsh, but it served its purpose. Shocked, Cosette let go and shrank back. She had observed others react to his stern words and instinctively understood that, although she herself had only received kindness from Javert, that this man was capable of much more besides. _Would he ever hurt her?_ \- Looking into his serious eyes, she couldn't be sure any more.

"I don't know your punishment yet," Javert continued, mostly to gain some more time. While he was quite adept at training - and reprimanding! - policemen in training, he hadn't the faintest idea how to teach a little girl that unwanted behaviour provoked consequences.

"I have to go to Monsieur Madeleine now, Cosette. While I am away, you should sit down at the table and practise your letters." He walked to the door and turned, handle in hand. "And when I return, I will tell you what your punishment will be."

With this he left.  

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the huge delay in updating, but unfortunately dealing with real-life problems had to take precedence over fantasy-life and stories. 
> 
> Dear readers,  
> if you find any inconsistencies in the story, please let me know.

As Valjean walked towards his office above the factory, he pondered how best to deal with Javert and the fact that the man still hadn't handed Cosette to him.

No matter what Valjean's memories of the former prison guard Javert were, as mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer Jean Valjean had come to encounter a very different man. He had learned since that Inspector Javert was eager to please his superiors, and that he was very submissive to anybody in authority.

_Which made it all the more infuriating that the man still hadn't given him the child!_

Valjean sighed. Dealing with Javert was never easy for him. Javert always cited the law. He knew about all the rules, and when someone had broken a law he could always cite chapter and verse of the Penal Code to prove it. Even in his weekly reports to the mayor, he was citing those paragraphs ad nauseam.

A sudden thought made Valjean stop his strides. _Yes, that was it! If he, Valjean, had a chance to pry Fantine's child from Javert, he would somehow have to convince Javert that by keeping Cosette he would either be disobedient to his superior or, even better, act against the law!_

Satisfied with his thoughts, Valjean strode towards his office to prepare for Javert's arrival.

 

***

 

Javert hastened to arrive at the Mayor's within the promised hour. _Monsieur Madeleine had sounded quite impatient, and it would not do to let a superior wait. Whatever it was that was weighing on the Mayor's mind, he, Javert, was prepared to do his utmost to help._

 

As Javert walked briskly through town, he was greeted respectfully by the butcher Monsieur Belmont. _Ah, yes,_ Javert remembered, _at the very beginning of his time in Montreuil-sur-Mer he had apprehended two men trying to break into the butcher's shop._

Across the street, Madame Renaud gave a curtsey to the inspector. He touched the brim of his hat and hurried on. _She must still be thinking of that night when he had stopped a drunken sailor from violating her. That had been months ago! Strange how some women just didn't let go of the past..._

Javert rushed on. There were citizens greeting him for whom he had done nothing - as far as he could remember. _Well, perhaps they were some relatives of someone he had helped while doing his job. - After all, that was what it was about, wasn't it? He was doing his job to the best of his abilities._

He gave polite nods to all the various greetings, but hurried on so as not to be late for his appointment with Monsieur Madeleine. Suddenly a thought hit Inspector Javert out of nowhere. He became aware of the fact that he had _never_ been living and working in a place where he had received so much respect!

And right after this unfamiliar thought a feeling, equally unfamiliar, swelled inside him like a tidal wave: he felt happy. Happy to work in such a fine city, and happy to work under the esteemed Mayor Madeleine!

 

 _There was Monsieur Madeleine's office._ After checking that his appearance was spotless, Inspector Javert knocked and heard the Mayor's call for him to enter.

"Ah, Javert. There you are. Come in, come in!"

Javert was slightly confused. _Monsieur Madeleine sounded overly cheerful. He wasn't usually like this. Something must be up._

He took up his usual place opposite the Mayor's desk and gave a bow. "Monsieur le Maire, you wished to see me."

"Javert... our benevolent uncle..."

"Pardon?" Slightly thrown off by the somewhat sarcastic tone, Javert blinked in confusion. "I do not understand, Monsieur."

Valjean leaned back in his chair and folded his hands almost ceremonially on his non-existent belly. Then he looked Javert over thoughtfully.

"When I saw you in the street bending over little Cosette, you looked just like an uncle offering her some sweets," he explained.

Javert scoffed. "I did  _not_ offer her sweets, Monsieur le Maire, on the contrary. I was reprimanding her."

"Reprimanding her? Such a sweet and dutiful girl?" Valjean's cheerful mask collapsed. He didn't have to pretend to be angry; the mere memory of Javert bending over Cosette like a big, intimidating dog made his blood boil.

"She is not dutiful, Monsieur le Maire," Javert explained. "She keeps running away and following me when she is ordered to stay at home."

Valjean rose - anger in his face. "She should be with me, Inspector! Instead she is still in your house!"

Javert flinched - Valjean saw it with glee. _He had been right! That was the way to get at him. Best drive Javert in a corner quickly before he could wriggle out of Valjean's grasp._

"When I ordered you to fetch her from that inn," Valjean continued in his best authoritative 'Madeleine-voice', "I intended for you to bring her to my house. So why isn't she living with me?"

"You will recall, Monsieur, that I brought her straight to your place. But then..."

Javert blushed and broke off. _How to continue? Madeleine knew quite well that Cosette had been afraid of him. Why did he make it sound like it was his, Javert's fault?_

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Javert simply didn't know what to say. Truth be told, Cosette was still unwilling to enter the mayor's house. Numerous times Javert had tried to explain that a cosy room full of toys was waiting for her in Monsieur Madeleine's home. But each time he had raised the subject, Cosette had fearfully clung to him and shaken her head no.

Well, Javert knew that the girl need not be afraid of Madeleine, but how was he to convince Cosette of this?

 

 

_Beatings rain down on the adolescent Javert. Why? He does not know. Usually, he gets beaten when he is too slow following orders. Sometimes, he gets beaten for not carrying out orders well enough. But this time, it is Henri who beats him. Henri, the only guard who occasionally takes the time to explain to him about the prison rules and the prisoners. Henri, who sometimes helps him when his work is too hard, or too much, and who talks to him when his sleep is disturbed by nightmares._

_Henri has been around less than a year, but in this time he has become almost like a father to Javert. For Henri, the boy Javert has become a substitute son because his own son and wife live too far away for him to see regularly._

__That same Henri now raises his fists and hurls them down on Javert. And Javert had thought Henri to be his friend!_ _

_How is the young Javert to know that the guard Henri has just received word that his wife and son have been murdered by an ex-convict who avenged himself on his former guard?_

_Javert ducks and uses his arms to protect his face and head. Most of the lessons he learns in prison are reinforced by pain of some kind. The lesson he learns today is perfectly clear: People are not to be trusted._

 

 

"But then..." Madeleine was thundering, continuing Javert's own words and forcing him back into the present, "...but then she got scared and you carried her off. And in five weeks' time you still haven't handed her over to me!"

His superior's voice was like a fist in his face. Javert had never seen Mayor Madeleine like this, had never heard him raise his voice before. He felt himself getting smaller in the face of his superior's anger.

"Monsieur le Maire... what can I say? Cosette... she is still afraid of people," he managed to squeeze out the words. "She doesn't know whom to trust yet." - He knew that wasn't what his superior wanted to hear, but when he thought of the little girl in his apartment, he felt instinctively that it was wrong to push her too far too fast.

"She should have stayed with me that first evening. By force, if necessary," Valjean said. "My housekeeper said as much. 'Sometimes, you have to force people to be happy' she said. If Cosette had stayed, she may have wailed a day or two, but in the end she would have realized that her life had changed for the better."

 _But it has!_ Javert was about to scream, but managed, just in time, to hold his tongue. Instead, he inclined his head to signal doubt.

"Force her to be happy, Monsieur? How can happiness be obtained by force? You may force obedience, but never happiness. And, by the way, it is too early for her to be happy in her new world. First, she needs to learn to trust the people around her and to obey them. Then, she needs to learn what she needs to know in order to find her place in this world. And once she achieves this, _then_ she can begin to be happy."

For a moment Valjean stood gaping. It was the longest - and certainly the most philosophical - speech he had ever heard the Inspector utter. He gave a vicious smile.

"I didn't think you such a connoisseur of the human soul, Inspector."

Javert flinched at the sarcasm thrown at him. He swallowed, but his stance, still stiff and perfectly straight, didn't waver.

"Didn't you tell me that you were once a prison guard in Toulon?" Madeleine asked.

"Yes, Monsieur."

"And you draw your wisdom from what you learned during those years?"

Again, the Mayor's voice had changed. Javert had the feeling he was being baited.

"I wouldn't call myself wise, Monsieur le Maire. But as a prison guard you cannot help but learn about people."

 

 

_"Ah... never mind Henri, my boy. There are plenty of nice guards around."_

_Grenouille's voice is soft, his hand strokes Javert's long, curly hair before the man looks him up and down and smiles lasciviously._

_Goose pimples rise all over Javert's skin. He turns and runs, trying to leave Grenouille's laughter behind. Further off, he sees Henri in conversation with another guard. He doesn't even glance Javert's way._

_The boy Javert and the guard Henri never manage to mend the rift in their relationship._

 

 

Mayor Madeleine crossed his arms. "I wonder what the former prison guard Javert might have learned about people while lording over prisoners," he said.

_That strange look... For a short moment, something flashed through Javert's mind; a face, a snarling mouth, a look full of hatred out of dark eyes... But it was all far too quickly gone to recognize or hold onto._

"I believe," Javert said cautiously, "you cannot help but learn while going through life and doing your job whether as police officer or as prison guard."  

Valjean scoffed.

 _That sound!_ Again, Javert felt something stir within him. His mouth went dry. For a split second he was back in Toulon, in the middle of the prison yard, surrounded by sullen men who might attack him at any time out of a mere whim.

Then the sentiment was gone again.

 

Valjean, too, had sensed something. A change had come over Javert; he was more alert. _He had to stop this! What he was doing here was too dangerous! Granted, Javert believed him to be the businessman Madeleine, factory owner and Mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer. But the Inspector was not stupid. If he, Valjean, didn't pay attention to what he was saying and doing, the man might well become suspicious. And once the Inspector started sniffing, he might find out what needed to be kept hidden..._

 

While Valjean berated himself for his careless words, Javert was close to panicking. _What was he doing? That was no way to behave in front of a superior! Monsieur Madeleine was within his rights to demand Javert to justify himself to his superior! And he was only angry because he was worried about the girl. Perhaps, if he, Javert, could convince him that Cosette was taken proper care of..._

Javert cleared his throat. "Monsieur le Maire," he started, "I am well aware that I did not carry out your order to have Cosette live with you."

Valjean turned and looked at him in surprise.

For a minute Javert lowered his head and contemplated the tips of his boots. He knew he wasn't the diplomatic type. Rather, he always stated the truth bluntly and without embellishment. _How to say best what he wanted to say?_ But then he looked his superior in the eye. The truth he was speaking might be hard to hear, but he would say it nonetheless.

"That first evening she was afraid of you, Monsieur le Maire. She had just come into a strange town, and I was taking her to a strange house meeting a stranger. She couldn't help being scared. - In the beginning, she was scared of me, too." He scoffed. "The only one she trusted was Gymont."

Valjean was at a loss. "Gymont?"

Javert smiled. "The horse. She took to him immediately. That's why she took the apple that first evening when we were dining in your house."

 _The horse._ Valjean smiled against his will. Javert saw it and his stomach unclenched somewhat.

"So she likes animals, but is scared of people," Valjean mused. "Or, perhaps, she is just scared of men. What about your landlady?" he asked Javert.

"Oh no." Javert shook his head in dismay. "They locked horns the first morning and they have been like cat and dog ever since."

"Oh? What happened?" Valjean was genuinely curious now. He walked back to his chair, sat down and looked up at Javert expectantly.

 

Javert realised that the storm had passed and the benevolent Mayor was back. He was immensely relieved and relaxed his stiff demeanour. The Mayor gave a wave of his hand towards the opposite chair. "Take a seat," he said. With a bow, Javert complied. 

"Would you like a tea, Inspector?" Valjean asked. Javert shook his head. "What happened? Tell me," Valjean pressed on.

Javert placed his hands on the table and folded them. Then he took a deep breath. "When I fetched Cosette from that wretched inn, the only possession she brought with her was a dirty rag that had been knotted at one end. She dragged this rag everywhere. That first morning when my landlady Madame Mercier brought us breakfast, Madame Mercier picked up the rag to throw it into the rubbish. Cosette went berserk."

"Really? What did she do? - Did she... did she attack Mme Mercier?"

"She rushed over, ripped the rag from her, and when Madame Mercier tried to get it back from her, Cosette spat in her face."

Valjean was shocked. He stared at Javert gaping. Javert smiled, nodded as if to confirm his words again and continued, "She held the rag so firmly, not even I would have been able to pry it from her. Naturally, before anything further could happen I interfered. But those two..." here he took another deep breath and sighed, "Well, if looks could kill, Cosette and Madame Mercier would have skewered each other right there and then."

He paused and Valjean nodded urgently for him to continue. "Well," Javert complied, "now, they circumnavigate each other taking the widest berth possible... and the house is quiet again."

Valjean laughed at the dry comment. _Who would have thought Javert had a sense of humour?_

 

Javert neglected to say that - a few minutes after that fierce confrontation - he had spotted Cosette cradling her rag like a baby. It was the moment he had understood what that dirty rag truly meant to her. She was the sole protector of her rag doll, thereby creating something for her imaginary doll that had not been available to herself.

In that moment, Javert had seen a small boy in his mind's eye. That boy was roaming the streets of Toulon, hiding in the darkest corners so he would not be seen. The boy had possessed no such rag. As a matter of fact, he hadn't possessed anything. And so his empty arms had been firmly clutched around his own knees for comfort...

 

"So..." the Mayor commented after some thought, "you brought Cosette to your home and left her there now?"

"Yes," Javert nodded, "it is better to leave her alone in my room than to leave her with someone she doesn't trust nor like. She is still scared of people."

"If she is so scared of people," Valjean mused, "then maybe she needs to go to school. As it is, she is in need of a proper education, and at the moment she is not getting any."

"She  _is_ receiving an education, Monsieur!"

Valjean looked curiously at the Inspector who had almost shouted his answer. _He had definitely poked into a soft spot there._ "Explain," he said to Javert and saw the man's folded hands clench momentarily.

"When I return from my shifts, no matter whether it is morning or evening, I teach Cosette letters and words and numbers."

"And what about the things she needs to learn that you cannot teach her?"

"Such as?"

"Well, she is a girl. She will need to learn needlework as well, in order to be able to mend her clothes."

"A policeman knows how to mend his own clothes, Monsieur le Maire. I can teach her that as well." Again, the words had come out somewhat harsh and Javert bit his own tongue. _Damn! It wasn't in his interest to make an enemy of Madeleine. After all, he asked because he was concerned about Cosette. Perhaps, if he, Javert, could explain that the girl was being taken proper care of..._

"At the beginning, she didn't even know how to groom herself," Javert explained, remembering how helpless he had felt during those first days when the girl had stared up at him and expected him to know best.

"I had to teach her everything; how to wash herself, how to clean her nails, how to dress, and even how to brush her hair. That one," Javert continued, "she is still not so good at. I have to do it most of the time."

 _How soft his voice becomes when he is talking about the girl._ Valjean sat and stared at his Chief Inspector trying to imagine him brushing the little girl's hair.

"She is learning the alphabet, and she is learning to write words. In time I will teach her everything she needs to know..."

"But you have a job."

"I teach her in the evenings, sometimes during the day when I have a nightshift."

"And when do you sleep?"

"I don't need much sleep, Monsieur le Maire."

"But you said yourself that she is following you when you are out on patrol. Wouldn't it free you from the strain of worrying if Cosette were in school?"

"It's simply not possible, Monsieur le Maire."

 

The idea of school wasn't new to Javert. He had already mulled it over. However, there was a problem - a fairly significant one! There was only one school available for girls; the school the nuns ran in their monastery. If Cosette were to visit this school, the nuns would insist on either him, Javert, paying for the tutelage, or on her living in the convent and becoming a nun, too. Naturally, neither was acceptable.

"I don't see Cosette becoming a nun," Javert started. Then he took a deep breath and sat up straight. Valjean had the impression that Javert was stiffening in defence. "And I cannot afford to pay for Cosette to go to school there when she is not living in the convent," Javert concluded.

Valjean looked at him. His back was ramrod-straight, his eyes had become dark and... _Were those tears? - No, he must be mistaken._

 _He must have been thinking about this quite thoroughly,_ Valjean realized. Naturally, Valjean knew that only the richest citizens in Montreuil-sur-Mer - the banker and the judge - could afford to have their daughters educated by the nuns. In addition to the Bible verses, the girls were instructed in petit point embroidery, housekeeping, the French language, calligraphy and letter-writing, and other skills a woman of standing might need. But Valjean hadn't been thinking about that school in the first place.

"Not the nun's school," Valjean said, "my own school."

"Monsieur?"

"You know that I built a school for my factory workers' children," he explained. "My workers are mostly women. They work ten hours, sometimes even more when there is a big shipment to be sent. During the day the children are at school to prevent them from mischief and from roaming the streets. Why shouldn't Cosette go to that school, too?"

"You forget that I am not your worker, Monsieur le Maire."

"Of course you are. I am your superior, am I not?"

"No, Monsieur," Javert shook his head. "While it is true that you are my superior, it is also true that I am not paid by you but by the Parisian Prefecture. Strictly speaking, I am _their_ employee, not yours."

"That is only too true," Valjean muttered under his breath.

Javert frowned. "Pardon, Monsieur le Maire. Do you have cause to complain about me?"

"No! No, Javert, not that. Never that." Valjean had been quick to reply, and as he uttered the words he realized that they were true. No matter what Jean Valjean, the former convict 24601 might have thought about Javert personally, Monsieur Madeleine, the Mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer could only sing the Inspector's praise.

"On the contrary, Javert," he expanded. "When you went above and beyond your duty to solve the 'Magnet' case, I wrote to Paris and cited it as an example of your constantly outstanding work."

 _"You wrote to Paris?"_     

"Don't frown like that, Javert. I asked them to increase your salary. Unfortunately, they declined."

Javert scoffed. "Of course they did. My salary is exactly the salary I am due as an inspector in a city like Montreuil-sur-Mer. Only inspectors in the capital are paid better. Such are _the rules_ , Monsieur le Maire."

Valjean hadn't missed how Javert had stressed 'the rules' again. But he was also mayor. He was part of the group in society that _made_ the rules - at least, some of them, and as such he would not give in.

"Well, I believe a man should be rewarded for outstanding behaviour," he stressed his point.

"No, Monsieur. He needs to show outstanding behaviour in order to convince his superiors that he is worthy to rise further in the future."

Valjean sighed deeply. "Be that as it may, please consider my offer to accommodate Cosette in my workers' school."

Javert was still put off, Valjean could see it. But this was important!

"Please, Inspector... We both want what is best for Cosette."

Javert's eyes turned soft. His mouth twitched into an almost-smile. He rose from the table and gave a solemn bow.

"I'll think about it, Monsieur le Maire."

 

 

After Javert had left, Valjean sat and pondered their conversation.

He had meant to take a stance and force Javert to bring Cosette to his house. And, as so often, he had given in at some point. _Where exactly had he veered off and handed control over to Javert?_ \- It eluded him. But as he sat at his desk, he realized that he felt much better now than he had before. Javert was concerned about Cosette, too, or the man would not have faced his superior head-on; that much was clear! And the role of the generous and benevolent Monsieur Madeleine supporting Javert in his efforts rather than forcing him to give way was feeling much better than a confrontation that could lead to his, Valjean's demise.

_Yes, it was good the way the conversation had played out. And during their talk he had glimpsed a man he hadn't known existed. That was enough for now._

Valjean just hoped that the Inspector would come around to his way of thinking and have Cosette attend school. Would he ever be able to pry Cosette off Javert? Perhaps. But then, perhaps not.

 

***

 

That day when the Inspector came home after work, he found Cosette asleep in bed cradling her ragdoll. Javert looked over to the table which was littered with paper. Perusing the leafs he found them covered with letters and words. _She must have practised all day!_

Carefully, he sat down on the bed and looked closely at the sleeping girl. _There were streaks on her cheeks. She must have cried. - The Mayor was right; it was not good that Cosette was so fixated on him. The life of a police officer was precarious. If he were to die on the job, she would have to get used to living with somebody else._

Javert sighed.

_It was settled, then. Cosette's 'punishment' would be to go to Monsieur Madeleine's school..._

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

"My father is the baker. He makes the bread and the rolls, and sometimes he makes cakes. Oh, and he has to get up _very_ early every day, so that everybody can buy their bread in the morning."

"Thank you, Marie. That was very good." The young lady teacher smiled at the girl. "And now we will have..." she added an artificial pause, pondering each and every one of her pupils,"...Pierre next."

The boy jumped up from his seat. "My father is a blacksmith, and he is very strong. He beats the iron and he makes shoes for horses. If the horses don't got no shoes, then they get bad feet, and they have to be shot," Pierre concluded.

Some children gasped at the graphic image, others sniggered.

"Yes, that is correct. The shoes for the horses are like shoes for children," the teacher said. "They protect the feet. If you have no shoes, then you hurt your feet. And then you cannot run or walk."

"The gamins have no shoes," one of the girls called out, "and they can run faster than we."

The children laughed. Their teacher chose not to comment on that remark.

"Cosette next."

Shyly, Cosette rose from her seat and looked around. All eyes were on her.

"My father is..." She halted.

The teacher gave her an encouraging nod. "Go on, Cosette. What does your father do...?"

Cosette shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

"But you do, don't you?" the teacher asked. "Your father is a policeman."

"No." Cosette shook her head. "Monsieur Javert is a policeman. He is an inspector."

"Well, Cosette..."

"But Monsieur Javert is not my father," Cosette stated. "I do not know my father."

There was a tense silence in class at her words, so Cosette felt compelled to add, "But he saved me."

One of the boys sniggered at her comment. She turned around and faced him angrily.

"He did," she spat at the boy. "I was in a bad place. There was a cruel woman, and she beat me every day, and then one day Monsieur Javert came and freed me. He brought me here."

Her passionate outburst did have its effect; the children turned quiet. They all knew beatings - more or less. It was a common occurrence.

"Yes, Cosette," the teacher tried to get back to the subject of the lesson, "it is nice that the Inspector lets you live with him. Now tell us what he does."

"He catches criminals," Cosette answered promptly. But her teacher was not quite satisfied. She wanted the girl to elaborate.

"Tell us more, Cosette. Tell us what he _does_."

Cosette shrugged. "I don't know. I am not allowed to follow him. I only know what he does when he is at home."

The teacher sighed. "Tell us what he does when he is at home, then," she said expecting Cosette to tell about hours and hours of paperwork. It was well-known that Inspector Javert was all work and no play.

"When he comes home in the morning after a night-shift, he wakes me, and then we learn my homework, and then we have breakfast together. Then I go to school and he goes to bed."

The children laughed.

"He sleeps while you have to go to school. That's funny," Pierre called out. Cosette frowned and turned angrily at him, but her teacher forstalled any argument.

"And what if he doesn't have a night-shift and comes home in the evening like other fathers?" she asked.

Cosette turned to her teacher again and explained, "Then I have to show him my homework and we learn together, and then we have dinner together, and then we go to bed together."

Her teacher froze. " _Together?_ You mean that the Inspector is tucking you up in bed like a parent, don't you?"

"No," Cosette shook her head, "We lie down together and he..." - she was searching for the right word -  "... _embraces_ me, and then we sleep."

The teacher swallowed hard. "I... see." She cleared her throat. "Michelle next," she then said quickly and, relieved that she was no longer on display, Cosette dropped on her chair.

 

***

 

"And how is school going?" Monsieur Madeleine asked when Inspector Javert was giving his weekly report.

"Quite well, Monsieur le Maire. Cosette is learning, and I believe she is starting to make friends with the other children."

"Excellent, Javert. I knew it would be a good move to get her away from... I mean, to get her out from under your feet," Valjean added quickly, "so she cannot follow you on patrol any longer and is been taken care of while you are working."

The Mayor missed the mischievous glint in the Inspector's eyes.

Of course, Javert knew that Monsieur le Maire was jealous of him. He had wanted Cosette to live with him and, although he had stopped pressing the issue in Javert's presence, it was quite clear from his occasional remarks that he hadn't given up on the idea yet.

"You know, Javert, you should come to dinner with Cosette," his superior now said jovially.

"I am sorry, Monsieur, but I will be busy until late tonight."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Monsieur... it is not common for a superior to dine with his underlings."

 _Underlings... was Javert being polite, or was this some clever move to get him, Valjean, off his back? After all, this was the third time he had managed to wriggle out of his dinner invitations. - No, he wouldn't stand for it!_  

"What if I order you to come to my house, Javert?"

"Monsieur le Maire..."

"That's settled then," Valjean concluded knowing quite well that Javert would not be able to refuse a direct order. The anger, clearly displayed in the Inspector's eyes, was an added bonus for Valjean.

"Tomorrow at 7 o'clock then. I'll expect both you _and_ Cosette."

"Monsieur." Javert gave a stiff bow and left the mairie. As he was walking towards the police station, his thoughts were in a whirlwind.

_He had a night-shift the next evening. It was quite out of the question that he could change his schedule. The only other man available for that shift was Officer Pellier, a young man who had not done any night-duty on his own yet. Sergeant Colbert, his Second-in-command, had already taken over his shifts twice when the Mayor had seen it fit to interfere with Javert's duty. It was absolutely impossible to ask him to fill in yet again!_

Javert sighed.

_Somehow, he would have to convince Cosette that after dinner she would have to stay at Monsieur Madeleine's and sleep in his guest room until he, Javert, could pick her up the following morning..._

 

***

 

"And then I said you are an inspector, and then the teacher said I should tell more, and when I told about your night-shifts the children giggled. That's mean, isn't it? And there is a boy at school..."

Javert sighed. As much as he enjoyed Cosette getting more and more comfortable in her new life, tonight he was not really up to listening to her childish chatter. He had something to tell her, and he knew it would present an all-too-familiar problem.

"Cosette, come here, I have to talk to you," he interrupted her tale.

His serious voice produced instant silence. Cosette had frozen on the spot and was looking at him like a deer in the headlights.

"There is no reason to be afraid. You have done nothing wrong, petite," he said quietly. Then he sat down on the bed and extended his arm towards her. "Come here."

Relieved that there was no reason for any rebuke whatsoever, Cosette slid on his knees and let herself be held.

By now their moves were well-rehearsed. There was only one chair in Javert's room, and the bed was the best place to sit comfortably together. Sometimes, they would sit beside each other, and Javert would deliver one of his lectures while Cosette turned towards him, sitting cross-legged on the blanket and listening. Sometimes, they would both sit that way, facing each other, talking and unknowingly filling their hearts with the other's presence.

Their most favourite position, though, was Javert sitting on the bed and Cosette sitting on his knees and snuggling into his hug, her head wedged between his head and shoulder where she could, if need be, turn and bury her face in his neck. That way his deep voice rumbled through her while his arms hugged her to him, and she would feel extra-safe. It was just this position she was in now.

"Tomorrow, we will go to Monsieur le Maire and have dinner there," Javert stated. "Then I have to go on night-shift. Do you want to stay with Madame Mercier and help her with the laundry?"

"NO!" Cosette almost jumped off his lap. "I'll stay here and do my homework."

"No." Javert shook his head. "You will not be alone again all night, Cosette. If you do not want to stay with Madame Mercier, then you will sleep at Monsieur le Maire's."

Cosette stiffened. She looked at Javert and he saw what he had feared and what he had meant to avoid; her expression was full of fear.

He couldn't understand it. Whenever those two met in public, the Mayor and the girl were the best of friends. But mention of the Mayor's home brought a guaranteed panic that simply made no sense.  _What was there for Cosette to fear about?_

"Silly little girl," he raised his hand and stroked over Cosette's hair. "I will fetch you in the morning when my night-shift is over. But you cannot remain alone all the time, Cosette," he added decisively. His heart constricted at the thought of entrusting her to Madeleine, if only for a night. He knew well-enough that the Mayor would take this opportunity to do his utmost to enthral the little girl with the ultimate goal to lure her away from Javert and to himself.

At that thought, Javert felt his throat constrict, too. Decisively, he cleared it. "You cannot be alone all the time, Cosette. It is not right for a girl as young as you are," he then added. "So tomorrow night you will sleep in Monsieur le Maire's house, and I will fetch you in the morning. Is that understood?"

He tried to make his voice sound harsh, but his own pain showed and the words came out pitifully weak. It was in that precise moment Cosette understood. No, he did _not_ want to get rid of her as she had feared. More likely, this was one of those adult rules she hadn't heart of yet, and that the Inspector meant to teach her about.

"Yes, monsieur," she said obediently and to Javert's surprise. "But you _will_ come in the morning and fetch me, yes?"

At that Javert smiled and stroked her hair again. "Yes, ma petite. I will fetch you from Monsieur le Maire's and take you to school. And then I'll go home and sleep."

Cosette giggled.

"What's so funny about that?" Javert inquired, and Cosette told him about the children who had laughed in school that day and who didn't know what it meant to do night-shifts.

Javert just nodded at her passionate explanation. "That's the way it is, Cosette. Not many people understand the work the police do for them."

"You know," Cosette looked very serious now, "there is a boy at school, and he is in the hand of criminals."

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

"Criminals?" Javert echoed. "What do you mean, Cosette?" Javert was truly at a loss as to the girl's train of thought. _How could a boy be in the hands of criminals when he was at school?_

"He has spots."

" _Spots?_ "

"Yes, like I had."

Cosette hopped off his knees and stood in front of Javert. "When I was still with Madame, and I had colours on me. You said they were 'spots'," she explained.

_Ah. Now he remembered. That first morning after Cosette's arrival in Montreuil-sur-Mer they had gotten out of bed together, and before breakfast was served, Javert had announced that Cosette needed to wash and brush her hair. When she had not known how, he had helped her. Her many bruises - scattered all over her slender body - had hurt when he had touched them with the washcloth. She had bravely born the pain without any sound, but when he had seen her face twist at yet another of his touches, he had told her that 'those spots' would be gone soon, and when this was the case she would no longer hurt. - Yes, the spots had gone after about a week. And in addition it had been a pleasure to see that her slim body had started to fill out..._

"The boy's name is 'Jacques'," Cosette continued her tale interrupting his thoughts, "and he has those spots, too. I asked him, but he wouldn't say who did this to him. He just told me to shut up and not tell anybody. But you told me that a crime must be reported," she finished, her voice assuming a touch of triumph, her chin raised in defiance.

 _'A crime must be reported'._ As always, when the girl slipped into official police language, he could not quite suppress a smile.

"It's not funny!" Cosette cried out. "I know that the spots on Jacques hurt just like my spots did. I poked one with my finger and he almost cried. You must help him get away from those criminals," she concluded.

Javert sighed inwardly. _Those 'criminals' were likely his parents. Now, how was he to explain to Cosette that beating a child fell within the realm of a parent's right?_  

"Cosette, I am not sure that whoever did this to Jacques is a criminal," he started but was cut off by a violent tirade.

"They are! You said that corp... corpi... corporal punishment is only for the wicked. You said it is only for those who break the laws. But Jacques doesn't break the law. He is obedient. He is never mean to anybody. He does his homework. And still they beat him. Just like Madame did when I did not fetch water quick enough..."

"Quick _ly_ enough."

"...quickly enough. They are bandits, and they are villains. They are felons and...and... and _assaulters_!"

_Ahem... maybe in future he should watch his mouth around Cosette, especially when talking about criminals and the various elements of crime. - But what a clever little girl to remember all these expressions and now use them to make him help her schoolmate..._

"Alright, Cosette," he said. "Tomorrow you will stay at Monsieur Madeleine's for the night, and when I fetch you the next morning and take you to school, you can show me your friend Jacques, and I'll have a good look at him. D'accord?"

Cosette considered his offer. Then she nodded. "Oui."

 

***

 

It was near midnight. Javert had patrolled the docks for three hours and witnessed little business for the prostitutes there. He was just turning to walk towards a part of town the townspeople had nicknamed 'Quartier des méchants' - one of the darker parts of Montreuil-sur-Mer - when a soft sound behind him made him whip around.

A hand holding a knife was raised above his head and came down hard. Javert ducked and blocked the knife with his left arm, but the blade cut through his greatcoat and shirt and into his upper arm.

He turned swiftly and grabbed the attacker with his right hand, but the man was young and agile. He turned and twisted, and Javert heard the rip of the man's shirt.

Immediately, Javert lunged forward to shove the man off his feet and prevent him from running away. He almost succeeded. The man had not expected him to fight back with an injury, and for a short moment he was stunned and did not move. Javert took advantage of those precious moments. His hand, firmer than before, closed around the attacker's collar again and pulled.

Between the previous shove and the following quick pull, the man stumbled. Javert pulled him forward towards one of the lampposts the Mayor had recently had installed in the district.

When the attacker realised what Javert tried to do, he twisted and squirmed to shake off the policeman's grip. But Javert held tight. It was only a few steps into the light.

For a short moment, the attacker's face was illuminated by the lamplight. Javert had never seen him before, and the man bore no distinctive marks by which he might be recognised and that could be put into a police report. But Javert had a knack for faces and details, something that was very useful in his job.

Suddenly he received a savage hit to his injured arm. The pain was so piercing that Javert had to let go. The young man gave him a powerful shove, then he turned and ran.

The shove had made Javert stumble and he sank to his knees in pain. His left arm throbbed and hurt. Meanwhile the footsteps echoed off into the darkness. The man was gone for good. After a moment of respite, Javert decided to break off his patrol and go back to the police station. He had to tend to his arm and write a report.

 

Officer Pellier was in charge of the night-desk trying desperately not to fall asleep. When he saw his superior enter in the middle of his shift, a strong surge of adrenalin helped him immensely doing his job. Suddenly Pellier was very much alert and awake. He rose and saluted. "Inspector. How may I be of service?" Then  he saw blood dripping from Javert's sleeve and blanched.

Javert grimaced at the reaction. _Good that he had not changed his shift with the young man. Pellier wasn't only inexperienced, he was not a particularly good fighter either. In a confrontation with a knifer, he might not have come out alive!_

When Javert took off his greatcoat to see to his wound, the young officer almost swooned. But after a harsh rebuke from his boss, he pulled himself together and quickly fetched the medicine chest to assist his superior.

 

***

 

Sunrise saw Javert walk to Monsieur Madeleine's house. His wound was clean and properly bandaged. He had stitched up and cleaned his greatcoat. It would not do to appear in front of the Mayor with a torn and bloodied sleeve. Now, all he had to do was take Cosette to school as he had promised, and then he would be able to go to his lodgings and get some well-deserved rest...

_Cosette!_

Out of the blue, the Inspector halted his steps. Fortunately for him, there were no onlookers nearby to witness his strange behaviour. Had there been, they might well have gossiped about how the Inspector had suddenly blanched and staggered. His frozen form swayed slightly, and he seemed in deep shock...

As it was, a thought had washed through Javert that had never unsettled him before.

_What if he had been killed during last night's fight?_

In all his life, Javert had always known that working as a policeman (or as a prison guard, for that matter) was inherently dangerous. In his career, he had suffered many injuries, even some very serious ones, but never in all this time he had felt afraid to die. He simply didn't cherish his life enough to feel sorry about leaving it. What was there to be sad about? He did not have friends, there was no family to mourn him. He would leave nothing and nobody behind at his death.

_But now there was Cosette!_

_On occasion, when one of his fellow-guards or fellow-policemen had voiced their fear, he had turned away and scoffed. Why did they take wives and have children when it was likely that they would leave them behind unprotected at a sudden and violent death at the hands of a criminal or inmate?_

_His colleagues, on the other hand, had turned away from Javert and muttered that 'he simply did not understand what was clear to everybody else'._

_Yes, it was clear, wasn't it? Cosette would have been left behind a second time after the death of her mother... NO! __ _

Javert shook his head to clear it and straightened. _He wasn't making sense. Cosette was not 'his'. At the moment she was staying with him, but that was only for the time being... before she would consent to live with Monsieur Madeleine for good. And if he, Javert, had indeed been killed that night, the Mayor would have made sure that Cosette would be taken care of and would want for nothing. Furthermore, he might have rejoiced at having gotten his wish so much earlier..._  

_Ah... there was his house already..._

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "D'accord?" means "Do you agree?" or "Are we agreed?"  
> "Oui" is French for "Yes"  
> the "Quartier des méchants" is the "quarter of the bad guys"


End file.
